


Forbidden Lover

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode Fix-It: s04e13 Journey's End, F/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-09 12:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4348778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words ‘denial’ and ‘forbidden’ had long summed up much of their physical relationship, but what happens if 'need' supersedes this? Only time can tell.<br/>This is a small sequel to both <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2396972">Forbidden (Love)</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2632727">Shower Shenanigans</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything here, anything at all.  
>  **A/N:** I found this on my hard drive, so I thought I might as well post it since I'd been begged to fix this.

As she had expected him to, the Duplicate Doctor made his way over to her as the rest of the Children of Time piloted the TARDIS towing the Earth home. Already Donna felt superfluous to requirements as she stood there, but his winning smile had soothed her troubled soul.

“Come and play with me,” he had whispered in invitation. “I need your experienced touch.” When she had merely smirked at him in reply, he had gently insisted, “I really do. Please!”

After checking no one was really paying attention to their movements, they made their way down the corridor and towards the bedrooms. The room they ended up in was hers. 

“What did you want to ask me?” she opened with when he shut the door carefully and stepped close.

To her surprise, he lifted her hand up and then moved them into a dancing pose. “I want to know how to dance.”

The TARDIS began to play some sweet old fashioned music; and Donna giggled at the absurdity of it all. “You could have fooled me,” she commented as he swayed them expertly in time to the beat.

“No one could ever do that to you,” he purred into her ear, drawing her body close against his without faltering his dance steps. 

“Give over!” she scorned, despite enjoying his attention. “I’m not even sure we should be doing this together.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he teased, twirling her away from him and back into his arms. “You could almost say that I was made for you.”

She frowned. “Surely you were made for someone else?”

“Did you have her in mind when you touched that jar?” he wondered, prodding her mentally along.

“No, I can’t say I did. The only person I thought of was the Doctor,” she considered, “and the TARDIS, of course.”

“Of course,” he happily agreed, edging his lips nearer. “Then by that logic, I… was made… for you…” 

His hot breath wafted temptingly across her lips as his dark eyes drew her closer. Seconds later their mouths touched, like Will o’the Wisps. There was no disgusted grunt of disapproval, no tang of disappointment; instead there was soft familiarity tinged with something new and enticing. 

“Why did you do that?” she gasped out when he relinquished his hold.

He merely smirked. “I’ve wanted to do that since I emerged, but definitely since I saw you in the shower. Have you any idea how gorgeous you are?”

“No. Show me, please,” she almost begged. Her hands caressed a path up his torso, to stroke his sensitive neck before easing his head forward.


	2. Chapter 2

Ever since she had got home from the hospital Donna hadn’t felt quite right. Not that she actually remembered being there, or even the journey home. The only thing she could guarantee knowing was the fact that she had woken up on her bed, fully clothed, and that some man named John Smith had introduced himself to her. Not that she could recall much about him beyond that; it had been as though her brain had drawn a veil over the whole encounter which is a pretty strange thing to happen, when you think about it. Just as strange as the fact that her mother hadn’t tried to instantly pair her off with him, having them mentally married before you could say Jack Robinson, like she normally would do. Instead, Sylvia Noble had been icily offhand towards him as though a psychopathic killer was sitting in their midst. Really daft, that one. 

In the days that followed, Donna discovered she had missed yet another massive hoax carried out by the government - or Richard Branson as an advert for Virgin Media, nobody was completely sure about that one, but he was amiably taking the blame anyway. They’d been full of it on the telly, banging on endlessly about projecting photoshopped planets into the sky and scaring everyone witless with mobile R2D2-wannabe pepperpots that threatened all and sundry. It would have been funny if so many people hadn’t died because of it all. Millions of people. 

It was all horrendous, so of course Donna had waved off any concerns she had about her health in light of all that; that is, she did, until her friends started to quiz her about where she had been for the last year or so. Nobody seemed to know, or were willing to say. She often caught her mother and grandfather sharing frightened meaningful looks whenever the subject cropped up. And it increasingly did so at an alarming rate. So much so that her head fair thumped with the effort of thinking about it.

Then and only then had they sat her down and explained about her ‘accident’ when she had been gallivanting about, searching for a lost species of butterfly. Butterfly?! When the hell had she become so concerned about a species going into extinction? I mean, she could just about justify chasing after a bloke, but an animal that she wouldn’t know what to do with even if she did actually find one…?! It didn’t bear thinking about. 

“It was something to do with the phases of the moon,” Wilf had lied in explanation. “You’ve always been fascinated by the moon.”

True, she could totally agree with that one. Everything about the night sky had enthralled her ever since she could remember. As a young child she had begged to accompany her dad and Gramps on any of their nightly jaunts to observe the cosmos. At times she was sure she could have been an astronaut in a previous life; it just felt so right. 

Not wanting to make waves, particularly because she couldn’t argue her way out of it, Donna had reluctantly accepted Wilf’s version of things and tried to adjust to her amnesiac lifestyle. But it wasn’t easy. Every time a question appeared on an application form that asked what she had been doing for the past two years and where she had worked, her eyes had filled up with unbidden tears; because she just didn’t know. She didn’t have a clue. There hadn’t even been a hospital bracelet to prove she had been in hospital, for goodness sake!

“Oh, that old thing,” Sylvia had disparaged. “I threw that away as soon as we got you home. We don’t need a reminder of how much trouble you had been in with your accident. It’s all best forgotten.”

‘Forgotten’ explained it beautifully. It made Donna want to weep in frustration. They’d told she had spent months away from them in the hospital; living and not living. That made no sense to her whatsoever. Where were the ‘get well soon’ cards, how come she could walk about so easily when such a long stay would surely have resulted in a heck of a lot of muscle wastage; and most of all, why did no one ever mention it?! She felt as though she was going mad half the time. The rest of the time she strongly suspected that she had. It would explain all the quiet whispers behind her back, all those stares in her direction before people noticed she was looking and they would then paste on an insipid smile. Yes, she had noticed, thank you very much! 

The creepiest thing of all was the fact that her mother was trying to be nice to her. I say ‘try’ because she often forgot and slipped in some snide remark before she could stop herself. The guilty expression on Sylvia’s face said it all. Something wasn’t right. 

All of that became less important when a sickness bug she had caught, that had appeared a few days after getting home, didn’t bugger off no matter what she took or tried out. Instead it lingered like a bad smell, causing her to lose her breakfast, lunch and dinner on several occasions. 

To lighten the mood, Wilf had joked in the kitchen one Saturday morning soon afterwards, “You’re not pregnant, are you, and not told us, eh?”

Sylvia had instantly stopped wiping down the kitchen worktops by the sink and stared at him in shocked attention. “You don’t think…!” she had begun to ask, unable to finish the abhorrent thought. 

Next to him at the table, Donna had gawped like a landed fish. “I can’t be. Can I?”

Wilf tilted his head in thought. “You never know. Perhaps you ought to get one of them tests, just to make sure.”

“But I can’t be pregnant,” she protested. “Not unless someone sexually assaulted me in the hospital. And that wouldn’t happen if what you said is true.”

“Of course it’s true,” Sylvia insisted as she rushed over to take Donna’s hand. “But to be on the safe side, I think you should. Your Gramps is right, you never know. Take a test and then we’d know for certain that you are safe.”

The sincerity of her words, and the fear within her eyes convinced Donna to buy a test kit as soon as possible. She trembled slightly in fright. “If someone touched me in that hospital I shall sue the backsides of them!” she venomously declared. _Me and my husband_ …. The words drifted into her consciousness, and she felt a resultant fierce stab of pain in her head as she pushed the words away. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God! It hurt. 

“Donna!” Sylvia cried out.

“It’s alright, it’s just a headache. It might go away in a minute, when I stop feeling… sick!” The last word was stressed because she lurched out of her chair and headed straight to the bathroom, narrowly getting there in time. 

Sylvia found her there some minutes later, wishing for death to take her before this headache and sickness could do the job. “I feel awful, Mum,” Donna quietly wailed as Sylvia gently washed her face and offered sips of cool water. “Why is this happening?”

“I can think of one specific reason,” Sylvia muttered to herself, hoping that Donna wasn’t paying attention. “There now. Feeling any better?” she asked sympathetically when Donna opened her eyes to look at her. “Get yourself into bed, and I’ll nip down to the chemists in a moment. They’re bound to have something that will help you.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Donna managed to say as the pain in her head threatened to split her in two. “Please don’t be long.”


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor hadn’t been back in the TARDIS for long, having allowed himself to be talked into having Christmas dinner with Jackson Lake. Not only had his appetite been placated for a while but his grieving aching hearts had been distracted too for a short while. 

Now back in his home, alone, the quietness bore down on him and his previous demeanour began to return. He had lost her forever. The precise nature of the identity of who ‘her’ was changed every few minutes or so, but the end result was always the same. He was lonely and he had made himself so by his own hands. So it was with both surprise and relief that he heard the mobile phone in the TARDIS ring.

Plucking it up, something else overtook that as soon as the voice of Wilfred Mott could be heard on the other end of the line. “Doctor? It’s me, Wilf.”

“Hello Wilf,” the Doctor hesitantly answered, already wary at the stern tone of the old man’s voice. “Is anything the matter?”

“Is it?! You swine!” Wilf admonished him. “Leaving our Donna like that. You’d better come and fix this right away or I’ll have your guts for garters.”

“What?” the Doctor squealed. “I’ve already explained about the metacrisis. You mustn’t ever mention me to her.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Wilf bit back. “I’m referring to you bringing her home pregnant.” 

“I did what?!” the Doctor near shrieked. “Give me the exact time and date there and I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“Right you are. You'd better hurry,” Wilf replied, now feeling some relief. “I’ll go put the kettle on.”

Putting the phone back in its holdall, the Doctor stared at the time rotor in confusion. “She can’t be,” he murmured to no one in particular. With a decisive prod, he pushed a button and aimed for Chiswick.

 

She was lying silently on her bed, just like the last time he had seen her; and just like last time, he was the reason she was sleeping so soundly. A quick flick of the wrist near her temples and she had fallen under his expert spell. 

“Is that it?” Wilf to the side of him wondered, with more than an accusing disappointed quality to his words.

“No, this is just the start,” the Doctor quietly answered, not wanting to disturb her slumbers in any way. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes, please?”

“Why, what are you going to do to her?” Wilf suspiciously asked. 

The Doctor sighed in order to quench his intended outburst. “I am a doctor of medicine and I need to examine my patient.”

“We already know she’s pregnant. That kit from Boots said so,” Wilf petulantly stated.

Using a well-aimed glare, the Doctor retorted, “Yes, but things are a little more complicated than that. I might need to internally examine her.” He didn’t add that he could have done all that without actually laying a hand on her, because the sonic screwdriver was perfectly capable of providing such information.

All he wanted was to be left alone with her for a while; part of the reason was so that he could think more clearly without the non-verbal accusations continually being aimed in his direction. The rest if the reason was a mere theory until he knew for certain that she was pregnant. 

Wilf had blanched at the thought of the Doctor having to mess about with Donna. “I’ll er… I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Just give me a shout when you’re done and I’ll make us some tea.”

Nodding his agreement to this, the Doctor had escorted Wilf to the bedroom door and then firmly closed it behind him. Good! Now he could properly get to work. 

 

A few swift circuits of her body with the sonic screwdriver soon confirmed his greatest fears: Donna was definitely pregnant. That fact alone would have normally sent him into an apprehensive state, but the test results clearly stated that her head wasn’t the only place that held his DNA. 

He sucked in a frantic breath before reaching out to tenderly swipe his fingertips down her cheek. “How did this happen, Donna? Please tell me. We were supposed to be incompatible. All that time, and I never even thought to use real protection; I was merely humouring you,” he softly confessed. A small sob burst out of his throat. “Then again, you always did have this way of surprising me.”

Outside on the landing, Wilf staggered back with shock. The Doctor and their girl? If he hadn’t heard it with his own ears he would never have believed it. The Doctor was talking as though they had been lovers; he was acting like it too. But they’d always denied anything more than friendship. That little blonde girl who had come and commandeered their computer had insisted that it was _her_ and the Doctor, not Donna. Who was right? And if the Doctor really was the father of this baby, what did that mean for his future great-grandson/daughter?

Watching the Doctor still tenderly stroking Donna’s face, Wilf had felt as though he was intruding upon an intimate scene, but when the Doctor dipped forward and placed his lips on Donna’s, the embarrassment factor upped a notch or two; and he made a hasty retreat. Best to leave the two of them to it, Wilf decided as he descended the stairs. 

The Doctor had been powerless to stop himself from kissing Donna, the mother of his child. That fact was still seeping in. HIS child. Something he had thought would never happen again. It brought tears to his eyes as the information sunk in further. He ached to make love to her one more time. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered just before his lips touched hers.

To his amusement her eyes instantly opened and she frowned at him in disbelief. 

“What?” she rasped.

He smiled a broad grin. “Hello Donna. Congratulations on becoming pregnant.” 

“Why should you care?” she mumbled, right before her confused expression was replaced by shock. “It’s you! You’re the…” And then she fainted right away.

At least the defence mechanism hadn’t blasted him off the bed, he supposed as he watched her fall into a deep sleep. But it wasn’t helping his cause very much. 

Glancing back towards the door in order to make sure that Wilf wasn’t hovering there, observing them, the Doctor brought his hands up to cradle Donna’s face and placed his fingers on the contact points on her temples. He needed to know how well the block was working, what she remembered, and what damage had occurred.

 _I need to know about the baby, Donna,_ he informed her when her psyche reared up and threatened to smite him. _Please tell me what you know._

He hadn’t expected the phantom that represented her psyche to then turn and lead him through a particular door in her mind. What he had expected was for her to fight him all the way, not comply like this. There had to be a catch. So he had ‘stood’ hesitantly, looking around as he waited to be attacked at any second.

The room she had led him into looked remarkably like her room back in the TARDIS; a few minor details were missing but that was unimportant. All his attention was on the couple in the room. Presumably this was the act of conception, he reasoned as he watched them clasp each other tightly, stood as they were in the middle of the room. 

Fascinated, he wondered if he really looked like that when he was kissing her. It was frantic, seductive, and devouring. She must have had an awful lot of willpower to resist his advances for as long as she had, because from what he could see, he was a damned good kisser. It certainly explained Martha’s instant attraction for him. Not that he ought to be thinking about her when he was watching himself with Donna, he mentally admonished himself.

He readied himself to enjoy seeing them falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs before ‘he’ proceeded to make love to Donna; but that didn’t happen. What happened instead was that ‘he’ pushed her up against the wall. ‘He’ ravished her body as his kisses grew more fervent. Surely this must be a fantasy of hers because this had never happened. They had never had sex standing up like this. It was impossible! But all the evidence was before him, quite clearly. Before his very eyes was the sight of him thrusting into her body as ‘he’ held her up against the soft coral wall, her fingernails dug deeply into his shoulders as she kept herself above him, and both of them cried out in passion as they went on, and on, and on! Had they really been like rutting rabbits? It was certainly an eye opener. 

It took some effort to force his gaze away from the copulating image in front of him, but he eventually managed it, having stored particular parts away for later consumption, when he noticed the clothing ‘he’ had hurriedly discarded. Yes, it was his blue suit, that was true, and he HAD made love to Donna whilst wearing it, at least in the initial stages prior to disrobing; but this scenario was feeling more off the longer he looked. The combination of the shirt, t-shirt and jacket was not one he had worn for some time. In fact, he tended to be wearing a tie before any sexual proceedings…

And then it hit him. He hadn’t been wearing this precise combination but his duplicate had! 

The horrific force of the truth threw him backwards, and he hit his bum on Donna’s wardrobe before he could stop himself. 

“Donna…. and my duplicate,” he gasped.

His duplicate! The one he had given to Rose. Gifted him. Like a prize in a contest. Because she deserved something after he had led her on, letting her believe that they could have lived a life together; her whole life. Which they sort of did, but that was beside the point. He had given away a Human version of himself that he believed could love Rose as she wanted to be loved; he had practically forced him into it. Here you go, have the special version of myself instead. 

He hadn’t even thought to question it. Because that’s how he had felt when the hand had been chopped off. But the duplicate had been created when he had been having a love affair with Donna. You could argue that he had vowed himself to her and you'd be right. Oh no! No wonder the duplicate had formed a close relationship with her within seconds of his emergence. It all made sense now. But that also meant….

The Doctor clamped a hand over his mouth and whimpered. 

He had been cuckolded! This unborn child of Donna’s wasn’t his. Technically you could argue that it was, since it was still his DNA, but Donna’s mind told him otherwise.

Heartbroken beyond belief, he ran from the bedroom and almost fell down the stairs in his haste to escape. 

“You alright, Doctor? It all sorted out now?” Wilf asked him with concern when he appeared in the front room.

“No,” the Doctor replied, shaking his head. “I need… I have to go, Wilf. I can’t stay here. Sorry. Things to do, places to go.”

“Doctor? Doctor!” Wilf called after him as he raced out of the house and back to the comfort of the TARDIS.

Seconds later the TARDIS dematerialised and the Doctor was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** sorry for yet another long delay in updating anything.

The Doctor stood gasping at the console, not really seeing the room he was stood in, but still reliving that imagine from Donna’s mind. The pair of them locked together physically in an act of passion. 

“You and me. It’s only you and me,” they had tenderly whispered to each other as they undulated and moved in synch.

He grimaced in disgust and pain. How could she do this to him?! HOW COULD SHE?!!!

How could the Duplicate, come to that matter? How could they even think to betray him like this?!! Those were words meant for only him and Donna; not his Duplicate. They had taken his moment of pure happiness about the baby and turned it into something else. Something reviled. 

The TARDIS softly bumped him, pulling him from his fug, and he later stepped out of the doors with renewed vigour.

~o~

A darken figure lay hunched over like a pile of rags. A description that wasn’t very far from the truth. Its head rose up to reveal that this was a man encased in this gloomy lit room; had once been a man, a lifetime ago. He may look human but he didn’t consider himself a man any longer. Instead, he was merely a prisoner, beaten, starved and tortured to within an inch of his life. This wasn’t living, here in this dank cell. You could only barely exist in this godforsaken place. He didn’t even have a name, despite briefly having one. Here he was “it” to the soldiers who guarded him closely. His crime was existing; in a world where alien DNA was forbidden.

Spotting his empty metal plate lying on the ground a few feet away, he reached out and found the energy to drag it nearer to his weakened body. Once there, he desperately licked it, hoping to find a morsel of food or some collected moisture to drink. Alas there was none.

No sound came from his lips. He’d long since stopped any such futile effort to attract any passing attention or placate his frazzled lonely nerves. All he could do now was conserve any remnants of his depleted energy and stubbornly battle on living just to spite them. He knew it irked them, and that knowledge gave him power. It wasn’t much but it would do for now.

From out of nowhere a strong breeze whipped up, closely followed by a familiar sound.

It couldn’t be! He must be hallucinating because this was impossible. 

And yet he clearly wasn’t, because milliseconds later the TARDIS materialised in the corner of the cell and a long unseen face peered out at him.

“There you are. What are doing down there on the floor? You’ll catch your death of cold,” the Doctor forced himself to cheerily declare as he stepped out. There were several cameras dotted around the cell to accessorise the décor. “Did you decorate this room? I don’t like it.”

The Duplicate Doctor pushed himself painful up into a sitting position. “Save yourself,” he rasped out in warning. “The fashion police will be here any moment.”

The Doctor crossed over to him and bent down to his eye level. “Oh no, we can’t have that. Your dinner’s getting cold. Come on, old boy, upsy-daisy.” With ease, he lifted the frail form into his arms and then stood, striding towards the TARDIS. 

There was a scream from outside the heavy cell doors. “Doctor?! Wait! Wait for me, Doctor. I’m here, it’s me; I’m ready!”

“Rose?” the Doctor queried, gazing at the man in his arms with concern.

It was all the Duplicate Doctor could do to nod in return. So the Doctor kicked the TARDIS door shut behind him, ignoring the pleas from outside, carefully placed his doppelgänger down onto the pilot seat and set his beloved machine in motion. There were still frantic pummels on the door as they dematerialised and sped away from Pete’s World. 

After some minutes of pained silence, the Duplicate broke it when his depleted energy allowed it. “I take it you’re that angry with me. Enough to come and drag me back personally.”

“Oh, you got that, did you?” the Doctor hissed back.

“A little hard to miss. And you deliberately left Rose behind, again.” He decided to change tactics when that didn’t work to gain much of a response. “Any chance of a cup of tea? I’m gasping for one. With a biscuit, or a whole meal. Either would do.”

“Fine! You can have tea,” the Doctor bit, walking away from the console. “Anything else while I’m out there? My whole tin of biscuits, the contents of my larder, or my very hearts?”

“Look, I know we’re supposed to be doing the whole family argument bit right now, but I really am dying of starvation here. I’m not kidding,” the Duplicate pleaded. “Can we schedule it for when I’ve eaten and had some tea?”

The Doctor did no more than lifted him up again into his arms and carried him through to the kitchen. “Very well. Food, drink, sustenance, and then explanations,” he promised. “Mainly from you!”

The Duplicate decided he could live with that. It was in his nature to survive at any cost. “How did you get there?” he asked as he sat watching the Doctor bustle about with the tea things. 

“Through some cracks,” the Doctor reluctantly supplied. “For one brief second they lined up, rippling back from a point in my future timeline, so I took the opportunity to collect you.”

That sounded ominous. “Am I your prisoner?” the Duplicate quietly wondered. It seemed a logical step for the Doctor to take, given the circumstances of his release. 

Fiery eyes were turned in his direction. “You will do as you’re told, this time,” the Doctor sternly demanded.

“It wasn’t my fault, the whole thing with Rose,” the Duplicate Doctor defended himself. “They were waiting for us as soon as we stepped off the zeppelin in London. I was dragged away for infringing some alien law or other; no idea what.”

“Was Rose okay?” the Doctor instantly worried.

The Duplicate shook his head. “No, from what I can tell. She got the stars to come back in the sky for them, but she brought me into their world. An alien. A big no no.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor tersely queried, placing a steaming hot mug of tea in front of him on the kitchen table, closely followed by a packet of biscuits. 

“I’ll er… need help opening that,” the Duplicate requested with some embarrassment. He then held up his broken hands in explanation. “I can probably palm the mug but my dexterity is limited.”

In answer, the Doctor ripped open the packet, and then stood up to rummage through the nearby cupboards until he found a straw. It was a large, pink, rollercoaster of a type of crazy straw; and he threw into the mug of tea with disgust. “Try that,” he suggested, and then felt his anger subside as he saw his duplicate wrestle with getting a biscuit into his mouth by bending down and almost hoovering it closer. Reaching out, he lifted a biscuit to the man’s mouth, and held it there while he nibbled at its edges.

“Thanks,” the Duplicate gratefully acknowledged his help. “Sorry about being a pain.”

“It’s all fine,” the Doctor dismissed. “Once you’ve finished your tea I’ll take you to the infirmary and start your healing process. Did they hurt Rose?”

“Yes, they were horrible to me, thanks for asking,” the Duplicate sarcastically answered, anger firing across his face. “She got let off after a month, but she had to work as a prison guard after that. Torchwood wouldn’t be allowed to re-employ her for another year. So she got off quite lightly in the end.”

“It doesn’t sound as if she did,” the Doctor mumbled.

“I assure you she did!” the Duplicate insisted. “I repeatedly told them that it had been MY idea to return with her, not hers. It was my fault she had to look after me; I am to blame.”

“You certainly are,” the Doctor couldn’t resist remarking.

An indignant pout appeared on the Duplicate’s face. “What do you mean? It certainly was not bloody my fault! Nothing to do with me. In fact, it had been your idea from the very start, so don’t try to deny it, Spaceman.”

The Doctor visibly paled. “Don’t say that. Don’t use that name.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you haven’t earned the right.”

“No, I’m just the backup man, aren’t I?” the Duplicate grumbled. “The substitute. The understudy, while you ponce about lording it over all of us.”

“You don’t understand,” the Doctor argued, biting down on his grief. “As soon as we left you, Donna…”

“She died. Yes, I know,” the Duplicate sadly finished for him. “I felt it happen.” He drew in a deep sob, trying to control his spiralling emotions. “I tried to prevent it, and it still went and happened. What went wrong?” 

Should he tell the truth? “Donna isn’t dead,” the Doctor murmured. “But I had to break the bond with her, leaving her alone with her mother.”

“How could you!” the Duplicate gasped out in horror. “She didn’t want that.”

“Precisely.” The Doctor then paused dramatically, knowing that a low level of hate was starting to be aimed at him. “That’s why I’m taking you to her.”

The hate was instantly replaced with surprise. “What?! Why? What are you planning? You’re taking me to Chiswick? What good would that do, if you’ve done what I suspected and removed us from her mind?”

This was the part the Doctor had been waiting for and he was going to enjoy it with a great deal of relish. Standing, he gripped the Duplicate Doctor by the throat and pulled him up into a standing position. Gritting his teeth, he spat out his words, enjoying their effect as he stared into his doppelgänger’s face. “I will see you account for your misdemeanours, whatever your name is. You think you’ve had it rough up until now? Just you wait until you see Donna. THEN you’ll have some explaining to do to her mother.”

Trying to control his emotions, the Duplicate answered as calmly as he could manage, “The name’s Mark. I chose ‘Mark Noble’ as my name.” He blinked a few times. “What do I have to explain to Sylvia?”

“Hitting the Mark. It’s got a whole new ring to it,” the Doctor cruelly joked. “What’s Sylvia got to do with it, you ask?” Waiting for a faint nod in reply, he goaded him still further. “You get to tell her how you got her daughter pregnant.” 

As Mark squeaked “What?” in shock, the Doctor let go of his tight hold on him, and let him fall, boneless, onto the kitchen chair beneath him. 

“I’d love to know too, but seeing Sylvia Noble knock you into next Tuesday will be almost worth it,” the Doctor jibed. “But before all that, I get to have you as my patient and at my mercy.”

“Oh shit,” Mark weakly muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

Lying on the examination table in the TARDIS infirmary, Mark knew that the Doctor had him exactly where he wanted him; and he was out for revenge. Mark repeatedly told himself this was nothing new compared to how the prison guards had treated him; but this hurt a lot worse. To them he had been a featureless, nameless nobody of an alien. To the Doctor he was family who he felt had wronged him. All he wanted was cold blooded revenge, and Mark knew that the Doctor was only too able to extract that in any way that he fancied. Only one thing was certain: the Doctor wanted him alive. 

Mark tried not to wince as the Doctor pressed something into the tender flesh of his hand. There was the merest consoling tremble from the TARDIS to ease the fear in his head. Glancing at the Doctor, Mark knew that he had gained a meaningful prod of disapproval from her; and that knowledge increased his courage. 

“Donna wanted to get pregnant, you know,” he tried to conversationally say. “It was her dream, to have a baby.”

“And you felt that you should foist an innocent child onto her, did you?” the Doctor accused him.

“No,” Mark protested, not willing to meet the Doctor’s eyes yet. “We made the decision together. I could give her what you couldn’t: a child that would save her life and fulfil it.”

The Doctor immediately stepped back from him, as though he was contaminated. The whole situation disgusted him. “You’re done,” he hollowly stated. “The medication with make you sleep, accelerating your healing process and you will wake, fully healed, in about four hours. We’ll talk then.”

“But what about Donna…?” Mark started to ask, but his speech dramatically slurred and he drifted into a deep sleep, his head lolling to the side. 

“All in good time.” The Doctor grimaced at the prone figure of his progeny then left him alone. 

All he wanted to do was distract himself with some maintenance work; but as he walked down the corridor back to the console room, the TARDIS blew puffs of cold air onto him from all directions. 

“I get the picture,” he growled. “You disapprove of my actions but I assure you that you cannot despise me as much as I currently do. This whole thing is my fault. I am to blame; for Rose, for Mark, and especially for Donna.” 

Wafts of Donna’s scent blew up, the odour unmistakeable, and he stumbled, almost crashing into the wall. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you liked her and the way she would surreptitiously pet you when she thought I wasn’t looking. She just had this way of excitedly reaching out to everything and everyone. You haven’t sung at all since she left.”

There was a slightly warmer gust of air in reply.

“I was so blinded by my need to see Rose one more time that I failed Donna,” he confessed, placing his lips so that he was whispering to the wall. “I took her for granted, thought that she would always be with me, catching me when I fell; when it was I who let her fall.” He gulped in a sob. “What do I do now? Mark could do what it would take me a lifetime to achieve. He loved with all his heart, and gave her a child. A child that should have been mine.”

A throb of cold air hit his temple like a shard of ice.

“I AM thinking!” he indignantly retorted. “What do you think I’m doing? D’uh!”

He threw up his hands in horror to cover his mouth. Since when had he echoed her words, her phrases? They had shared a bed but he wasn’t aware of them sharing so much more. 

With the thought of their bed, came the memories of them spending passionate nights together, their bodies melded as one, the sheer ecstasy of loving and being loved in return. They had lain together like husband and wife. The thought brought back his hunger. What wouldn’t he give to lie with her again? To feel the soft touch of her skin, to soak in her warmth, and taste the fiery heady mix that was Donna Noble. 

Perhaps the pregnancy could buy him enough time to find a solution to her problem? 

The warm puff of wind that blew across his face told him that the TARDIS approved of that particular thought. Deep within her she held secrets for the future he was destined to never know, but her encouragement meant that there _was_ a fix-it, that Donna could be returned to her former glory. It didn’t matter which form of glory she returned to, human or partial Time Lord, as long as she could safely remember him and give him a chance to remedy the other things wrong with their relationship. Okay, if he was honest, he would acknowledge that the problem lay with him and his attitude. She knew that. 

Tiredness suddenly overcame him as he leant against the wall for support. It all hurt so much, and he didn’t deserve to sleep a dreamless sleep; but the TARDIS was making his bedroom beckon him, enticing his senses. The scent of Donna's body was still on his sheets, the crumpled bedcovers scrunched up to display the way she had last laid there. For the first time since he had left her behind, he was willing to go back into his room and face the ghost of her presence. She wouldn’t be punishing him but welcoming him in; just like she had done in person.

Following his desperate need to be soothed by her body, he answered the call, and obediently went to bed, to sleep within her imagined embrace. In a matter of a few hours, Mark would be awake, and then they could go and get her. That was the thought that sent him peacefully into his slumbers.

 

“Doctor?!” Wilf greeted the sight of him standing on his doorstep again. “Finally turned up, I see. Where did you get to?” he asked as the Time Lord pushed past him. “And who is this with you? Is he your twin brother?”

Mark smiled warmly at him and offered his hand to shake. “Hello Wilfred Mott. Or may I call you ‘Gramps’? I’m Mark. Mark Noble.”

Wilf politely shook the offered hand, clearly puzzled by the exchange. “I suppose you could. How come you’re a Noble, and isn’t your name something more alien, like The Surgeon or something?”

“I like your logic,” Mark complimented him as he too stepped over the threshold and into the house. “I see myself as more of The Saviour. But I need to find Donna.”

Holding up his hand, Wilf mutely pointed upwards, to the floor above them. 

“Who is it, Dad?” they heard Sylvia’s voice call out before she appeared, standing in the doorway to the kitchen to stare at them in shock. “What are you doing here? And who’s the other one? You never said anything about having family,” she accused the Doctor, her eyes flitting between the two men. Their quiet determined presence frightened her. “What are you going to do to Donna? Don’t take her away from me; please don’t let her and the baby die.” 

“I don’t intend to,” Mark retorted after sharing a meaningful look with the Doctor. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” 

With that, he raced up the stairs, ignoring her further protests and leaving the Doctor to face her growing ire.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Sylvia lashed out, hitting him hard; on the face, the shoulder, the arm. She didn’t know nor care where her angry blows landed, so long as he was the target. “Think you can just waltz in here after getting my daughter pregnant, eh,” she spat. “Who the hell do you think you are, treating her like that; like some Victorian mistress you can visit and then toss to the side when the mood takes you. I’ll wipe the floor with you! How dare you up and abandon her, after all that you said when you brought her home?! And who…”

She only stopped ranting and thumping him because her arms were suddenly pinned behind her body and her movements restricted. Looking to her side, she saw that her father’s hands were locked around her arms.

“Stop it!” Wilf ordered. “Look at him. He ain’t even stopping your blows landing on his face. Sylvia, don’t do this. I know you’re angry; we all are, but this ain’t the way to solve anything.”

“But he got and left her pregnant, Dad,” she near whimpered, feeling him release his tight hold. “That ain’t right. Donna didn’t deserve that, not any of what he’s done to her.”

“No, she didn’t,” the Doctor agreed, setting his mouth into a firm line. “That’s why I’ve come back with the… with Mark, to put things right.” He turned his attention onto Wilf to say, “Leave us alone for a few minutes, and we’ll call you when we are done.”

“But…,” Sylvia started to protest.

“Alone!” he sternly reaffirmed.

Not waiting for any further answer, let alone assent, he ran up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, and headed straight for Donna’s bedroom, where he had left her lying some hours beforehand. Good, Donna’s family hadn’t followed him to interfere. That would have been all he needed, fending off their futile efforts to stop their valuable plan to save Donna. Not that he had given Mark much of a chance to argue the toss about what they would do. Instead, he had informed Mark of the plan when he had woken up, and then piloted the TARDIS straight there. 

 

“Oh Donna!” Mark had gasped out when he had entered her bedroom and seen her lying silently on her bed. Her body had been placed in the same position that bodies in a coffin were often put. It almost broke his heart to see her look so lifeless. “I got here as quickly as I could,” he gently reassured her as he edged nearer, not stopping until he was sitting on the bed by her side. Lifting up her hand, he pressed a fond kiss onto her wrist and nuzzled his face into her palm. “I heard about the baby, our baby,” he murmured with suppressed glee. “It worked! You’re going to be a mum. Just think of that.”

There was shouting from downstairs, but he was sure the Doctor could handle it all. If he could face an army of marauding aliens, he could easily cope with Sylvia Noble being on the war path. The shouting seemed to slightly rouse Donna, and her eyelashes fluttered.

“I should be miffed that I didn’t get a whiff of a reaction but your mother did,” he pretended to gripe. “Hello, Earthgirl,” he softly greeted her when her eyes actually did open, and she gazed at him in wonder. “Been missing me, I hear.”

“Earthman?” she queried as she recognised his essence. “Am I dreaming?” 

“It’s me,” he confirmed, and unable to resist it any longer, stretched out his long form on the bed alongside her. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back to you?”

“Well… yeah,” she huffed. “That was sort of the deal. But I’m glad you have.” She then took the opportunity to stroke her hand over his face, reacquainting herself with his features, gazing at him with awe. “But how?”

“I brought him,” a recognisable voice from near her door stated.

Turning her head to see where the voice came from, she stuttered, “Doctor?”

“Hello Donna.”

He stood grimly before her, keeping his distance as he watched the pair of them lying together on the bed. His expression was unreadable but she was keenly aware of his disquieted attitude. It didn’t improve when Earthman possessively wrapped his arms around her body.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** some of you might hate me for this, but it seemed right after the tone of the original story.

“What’s going on? I don’t understand.” She cradled her befuddled head, trying to work out what was happening and why, but a dark fog seemed to stop her questing mental fingers from grasping the facts. There was an additional warmth that entered her body, emanating from Earthman; one that was strangely comforting and unconditional as it seemed to guide her through the fog. “The last thing I remember was this terrible pain in my head and this urge to throw up. It wouldn’t stop. So Mum bought a pregnancy test,” she recalled as she tried to reason it out. The warmth was gently easing out several images from her buried memory that brought with them new insight. “ARGH!” she cried out as she shot up, sitting on the bed, glaring at the standing Doctor for all her worth. “I’m pregnant! With your baby!” 

“Well,” he disagreed, drawing out the syllable to its fullest point, and giving his neck a comforting rub.

“I’m the father,” his doppelgänger by her side corrected, a touch of smugness dampened his words. “Isn’t that wizard?!”

He looked even more shocked, and changed from smug to remorseful when she instantly reacted.

Using all the force she could muster, Donna swung round and punched him full in the face. It caused him to almost fall off the bed, but the action neither pleased nor amused her sensibilities.

“Yeah, wizard,” she echoed and then, to her personal horror, burst into tears. 

“Donna!” the Doctor sympathetically cried, and lunged forward to console her.

What he got for his action was a slap around the face that caused him to stagger back. What? He gave his cheek a comforting rub instead as he guiltily gazed at her. 

“It’s nothing. And you can keep your mitts off me too!” she snapped at him. “Coming here, getting me pregnant and thinking I’d be alright about it all.”

Mark was still nursing his nose. “You said you wanted to be pregnant, that you were fine with it,” he nasally complained. “You even caused ovulation to take place prior to us….” He then caught sight of the Doctor closely observing them, and changed his wording. “Erm… to doing the deed. I thought you wanted it.”

“And you were obviously after a quick jolly at my expense,” she retorted. “I wasn’t right in the head, not thinking straight thanks to his brain overtaking me, and you were supposedly in love with Rose. Remember? You came in to ask for advice.”

“Well, I…” Mark looked guiltily away. “I did do that, I admit. But then I saw you in the shower, and all the Doctor’s memories of fancying you reared up and swamped me. It was a very confusing time. You weren’t immune to me either; otherwise you wouldn’t have let me touch you.” 

“That’s by the by,” she blustered. “It wasn’t you I’d been having the love affair with.”

“Maybe, but I continued it,” Mark argued, “when Mr Gutless over there chased after his one-girl fan club and was too busy to consider you.”

“That wasn’t the case!” the Doctor hotly denied. “I was merely getting reacquainted.”

Donna pursed her lips. “Even I don’t believe that one. I had to save the universe in order to get your attention, and then I was right back to being ignored in favour of your girlfriend.” When his eyes went wide, she changed tactics, and demanded to know, “None of that matters now. What I want to know is why the pair of you’ve bothered to turn up here, in my bedroom. It’s not exactly your style, is it?”

“I was sort of… coerced,” Mark shyly admitted. “Not that I’m saying I didn’t want to come and see you, but…” He took in a deep breath. “I erm never expected to see you again until the Doctor turned up and got me.” 

Swinging her attention back onto the Doctor who remained as guilty looking as ever, Donna scowled at him. “What is all the Secret Squirrel stuff about? You unceremoniously dumped me back here with my mother, to let me rot away while you swanned off to another part of the galaxy, so IF you try the ‘I missed you’ route I swear I shall hit you into next week. Why exactly are you both here?!”

“I got a phone call from Wilf,” the Doctor began to quietly explain, stepping as far away from her right hook as he could within the confines of her bedroom. “He told me you were pregnant so I came back for you. But when I touched your mind, I found out that I wasn’t the father. Mark is. So I went and got him.”

“Was that to punish him or me?” she queried, lightly panting with emotion. 

“I would never do that,” the Doctor tried to deny; but Mark had instantly snorted his scorn.

“You’re forgetting that you considered me too dangerous to stay in this universe,” Mark pointed out, his anger slowly growing along with the usage of an irate digit in his direction. “I was accused of genocide even though we all know that Daleks still exist somewhere. And talking of that, how come Rose evaporated them all and that was alright, but me saving the universe from them isn’t? Talk about hypocrisy!” 

“Yeah, too right,” Donna readily agreed, much to the Doctor’s annoyance. 

Needing to defend himself, the Doctor retorted, “I came as soon as I knew you were pregnant.”

“But you wouldn’t have come back otherwise. I see.” She hauled herself up off the bed to stand on the bedside rug. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. A child conceived in the TARDIS is automatically a Time Lord. Am I right?” 

He suitably nodded his confirmation and eyed her warily as she paced backwards and forwards.

“That’s good,” she noted to herself. “The reason why I know who you are, can remember stuff again and my head hasn’t gone kaboom, is because Mark is here. Is that right?”

“We share a link still,” Mark put in helpfully as he shifted his body to the edge of the mattress and swung his legs over the end of the bed. “I can hold off the metacrisis from overwhelming you, but most of all, I can sense our child.”

The Doctor reacted by wincing at this news. He had guessed this was the case, but he didn’t like the fact that it was true. It rather put him in the wrong.

But Donna was ignoring that as her mind considered other matters entirely. “Both of you were willing to have sex with me but your feelings don’t go deeper than that,” she postulated.

“That’s not fair,” the Doctor protested. “We made love, together. You and me.”

Those words sounded so hollow now, when they had once been a declaration of attachment and commitment between them. So she waved the words away from her. “Sounds grand and yet you love another, and only her; the pair of you, no matter how fancy you dress it up,” Donna firmly stated. “When I agreed to share more than your bed it wasn’t just an idle whim for me. Thought you knew that. I was promising away my life to you. So I’ve come to a decision.”

“What sort of a decision?” the Doctor asked. In his eyes it wasn’t her place to do so. It was his. “Mark should stay here with you at your mother’s and keep you stabilised.”

“What am I, some sort of consolation prize? The first one didn’t work. Never mind. Here, have another shot at getting out of my life, is it?” she disparaged. “You’re trying to give him away again, and I ain’t having that. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, Sunshine. Something that’ll give us all what we wanted,” she began to explain. “You won’t be lonely anymore or have this enforced bond with me, Mark won’t have to be imprisoned any longer in his life, and I get back my original forever.”

As the Doctor frowned, Mark leapt from the bed shaking his head in denial at what he correctly suspected she would do. “No. No, don’t do it, Donna! There’s another way around this. You must believe that I truly love you.” The sudden pain in his mind almost blinded him and he felt something break apart. “You’ve severed our link,” he sickly groaned out and sank to his knees at her feet.

The Doctor felt a similar throbbing abyss as she snapped shut his bond with her. “What are you doing?!” he cried in pain. “Please stay with me,” he begged.

“I’m doing this for the best, to free you,” she said as her stance increasingly stiffened. “Never mind us.”

Mark pushed himself towards her, desperately trying to change her verdict. But he was too late to stop her, her mind was made up. With one last wry smile, she threw out her arms, tilted her head back, and burst into vivid flames. 

Both men screamed “NO!” as she burned up.

One second she was a blazing effigy, the next her outline vaporised, and she fizzled out like a dead lightbulb; leaving no bodily trace of her previous existence. 

The Doctor couldn’t bear to look. What had she been thinking? After all they had gone through together, everything they had been, and she had made this futile sacrifice. Did she not know what she meant to him? As he lowered his eyes, closing them tight, he felt his grief start to constrict his hearts. And by the look of it, Mark was faring no better than him. She had gone from his mind, leaving something else entirely. 

As he drew breath, daring to open his eyes, he was aware of something new, containing fledgling connections. “Mark, are you alright?”

Mark now lay crumpled on the floor next to the heap of clothing Donna had worn. All he could think of for some moments was that she had left him, taking every kind action, every loving moment he had ever known, with her. Then he realised that their child had gone too, and he wept uncontrollably; great hacking sobs. 

Now howling with grief, he reached out a tentative hand and touched the fabric of her clothing reverently. She had gone, he couldn’t believe she had actually gone, and in her last moments she had thought of him, hitting him briefly in the middle of his torso with a burst of energy. Deep within his chest cavity he could feel a second heart stutter into being, learning the new task of pumping blood around his Gallifreyan body. He was no longer part human but full Time Lord. She had given him his secret desire.

But that wasn’t the only thing she had done with that burst of energy. Pulling back the mound of clothing from the floor to hug it close, he found a newborn baby lying there; screwing its face up at suddenly finding itself in the harsher but subdued light of the bedroom. 

The Doctor had noticed the find but he kept a respectful distance and left it for Mark to discover more about the infant. 

“Look what Donna left behind,” Mark gasped out. He was stunned for some seconds, absently noting how the growth and development of the child had been accelerated, giving it more than a fighting chance at life in the absence of its mother. “Hello baby,” he crooned as he tenderly swept the bairn into his arms. With a vain attempt, he wiped the tears from his face before tucking some of the clothing around the small body. “I’m your dad,” he proclaimed, giving in to the urge to kiss the tiny head and nuzzle it close to his cheek as more tears fell.

The child seemed to respond to his voice, instinctively knowing him; and flung out an arm in his direction to touch him by the mouth.

As quietly as he could, the Doctor asked, “What did you get?” He then knelt down to offer a comforting touch and risked a small watery smile as the child snuffled adorably in Mark’s arms.

“We got a boy,” Mark proudly but wetly announced, turning the baby to show off his face. “Come and say hello to Joshua Noble, Doctor.”

“Hello.” He reached out a finger to a precious tiny hand to take hold of. “She would have liked that name.” 

“Yeah.”

They shared an understanding look between them. This tiny being may not be able to replace his mother, but he was already filling in some of the gaping holes within their souls. 

Somehow, Donna had gained her forever after all. 

It was a thought that fortified them as they faced their next task in a long list of unhappy consequences; beginning with going downstairs to where Wilf was comforting Sylvia by holding her hands as they sat on the sofa. 

Wilf turned large luminous eyes towards the Doctor as he appeared in the doorway. They must have guessed, he realised. “We’ve got some bad news,” the Doctor began, his voice breaking with emotion, “about Donna.”

“We heard you crying,” Sylvia blankly stated, numb with fear.

“What happened to her?” Wilf asked. “Is it as bad as we think?”

The Doctor reluctantly nodded. “I’m afraid so. She’s gone.” He waited for them both to sob in a breath before continuing. “But she saved your grandchild. Mark has him.”

“Oh!” Sylvia threw her hand over her mouth as Mark walked in, cradling his son. “He’s beautiful. Look, Dad, at him.”

“He’s a corker,” Wilf agreed, getting up to have a closer look.

In that moment, the Doctor knew they could weather this storm, with the help of Donna’s family. It was what she would have wanted.

  
  
gif by [mycroftplayingoperation](http://mycroftplayingoperation.tumblr.com/post/103989611436/david-tennant-in-nativity-2-danger-in-the-manger)  
  
picture by [whovianfloozy](http://whovianfloozy.tumblr.com/post/103947971938/i-adore-danger-in-the-manger-but-it-sure-is-tough)   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N2:** I originally tried to go a happy route with this, but a recent tragic family death made that impossible for me. Sorry again.


End file.
